aspiration

it was one of those mornings that seemed like summertime
although actually it was only a month before
the long pervasive chill of December
would steamroll its way into our days & nights

for now

those golden Cezanne rays of sunlight still glided in
as the warm breezes drifted through the window screen
& parted your lacy, pink bathroom curtains
& that sunshine glow draped the luscious nape of your neck
your delicate ivory shoulders
your elegant spine
down your smooth backside
still glistening from your sanctified bathwater

outside the window
the playful sounds of the kids in the parking lot
the rapid slapping of baseball cards in their bicycle spokes
the frivolous chatter & clatter of childhood playtime

& melodically wafting above & beyond it all
from boom box radio accenting the air so sweetly
Stevie Wonder crooning,”Isn’t she lovely…”

& the kitchen fragrance of the freshly sliced oranges drifted into
you & me standing on the fluffy beige rug
as I toweled of your glorious, orange nipples
erect on the thick cream complexion of your breasts

& all the while
caressing you & drying you off
I could not help but muse,

“Wouldn’t it be great if it could be like this all the time?”